


Define Success

by somewhereelse



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: CEO and department head AU with commentary from Diggle the ever-faithful, Thea the ever-dramatic, and Moira the ever-beleaguered.





	

"Well, this is fucking bleak."

"Thea!" The young woman turned at the reprimand and rolled her eyes at her mother's disapproval. The "Language!" admonition had gone unsaid.

Uncharacteristically, she flapped her arms, gesturing to the scene outside the window. "Have you seen him? No game at all. At this rate, I'm never getting a sister."

"Leave your brother alone," Moira sighed although her eyes momentarily drifted to the oblivious couple on the balcony. A perfectly romantic atmosphere that--as Thea accurately noted--was being squandered by her son.

"Why? It's not like anything scandalous is about to happen," Thea scoffed, "The one time I actually wish big bro was scarring me for life, and nothing. Nada. Zilch. This is so unfair."

* * *

Oliver slowly approached the open doorway, making sure no one else was in the vicinity. He'd been silently--but not subtlety according to Dig--following her for the majority of the evening. By majority, he meant since she'd shown up, outwardly collected but nervous to his trained eye. He was about to fade back into the party, unwilling to ruin her moment of peace, when he was suddenly shoved and stumbled forward, off-kilter from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. Oliver regained his footing quickly and quietly enough then spun around to face his assailant.

Dig stood on the other side of the now-closed door and pointed to the blonde. Without even trying the handle, Oliver knew that the door had been locked from the inside. Dig smirked to confirm his suspicion then held up his hands to indicate ten minutes before drawing the drapes closed.

* * *

"Felicity."

She startled at the sound of her name and instinctively put her hand to her heart as she spun around, wobbling just the slightest in her stilettos. As she suspected, it was Oliver Queen who'd snuck up behind her like a ninja. Instead of responding, she grasped the fabric of her dress just a little tighter until she realized Oliver's weighted gaze had landed on her hand. Which was, for all intents and purposes, clutching her cleavage.

Felicity let her hand fall to her side before reaching up to adjust glasses she had left at home and awkwardly dropping it down once again. "Mr. Queen."

"Oliver." The correction was made lightly with just a hint of exasperation. At first, he'd been selfishly frustrated by her refusal to break formality, but in the end, she was too practical not to be conscientious of their circumstances. A young, pretty blond department head and the barely reformed playboy CEO being any amount of familiar was an invitation for disastrous rumor. Never mind that her promotion had been at the hand of Robert Queen, pre-heart attack and pre-Oliver being hauled home from his drunken jaunt around the world.

He slipped his hands into his pockets before shuffling closer. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just needed some air." Her reply was slightly dazed as inch by inch he pushed close enough to tower over her. "I mean, that's not to say it's stuffy inside. The ambiance is great, plenty of room to mingle and rub shoulders without feeling like you're going to elbow a waiter into dropping a tray of champagne glasses. Your mom did a great job, or rather she hired great planners..." She trailed off when he huffed out a light chuckle then turned back to the view she'd been admiring before he joined her.

"How was your year?"

Instinctively, she tilted her head in confusion. "We've seen each other this year." By that, she meant spent every waking moment together for nearly the past six months, to the point where they had a weekly lunch and dinner rotation and her assistant had started calling his office instead of her cell phone when she needed to be reached.

"I mean, on the whole?" A moment passed while she struggled to put together an answer that didn't involve babbling about the accomplishments he'd already witnessed. She didn't have much time to flounder before he continued, "It's been a successful year, right? QC didn't just survive Dad's heart attack, but we've transitioned into the next stage of development. My parents are proud of me, my sister treats me like her brother again, the business world respects me. But it still feels like something's missing. Haven't been able to shake it since we were last out here."

Last out here.

Last year, nearly the same date, the exact same annual Queen Consolidated banquet to celebrate the end of their fiscal year. They had barely been acquaintances back then. Him, the prodigal son, reluctantly helming Queen Consolidated in the wake of his father's debilitating heart attack. Her, the brilliant prodigy, newly spearheading the gutted and revamped IT department. He had been sulking under the weight of his parents' expectations, and she had been overwhelmed by everyone's disapproval of her leadership position. Too young and too inexperienced, the both of them.

Theirs was a fast friendship, borne of a mutual desperation to prove the naysayers wrong. She came to him with wild, almost otherworldly ideas for innovative products; he worked day and night to charm, finagle, even beg to secure the resources to fund her imagination into reality. Their lows were low and their highs, high, but so far the wins had massively outgained the losses.

"I think I know what's missing." His hand slid closer to where hers lay on the railing, the tip of his pinky finger reaching out to rest against her manicured nail. Her entire body shivered in response to the light touch, and he was heartened.

After the second quarter earnings reports, the vultures, who'd been quick to criticize the close collaboration between him and Felicity as gold-digging and ladder-climbing on her part, suddenly spun the story to that of an emerging power couple. And where Felicity had always been tentative to show any familiarity with him beyond that of a working relationship, she'd taken a gigantic step back once the people started clamoring for a fairytale romance. To his disappointment, the easy banter and casual touches dried up faster than the Sahara. He'd been careful to respect the unstated boundaries but couldn't help his frustration at every step backward.

”Felicity.” At the soft, almost longing tone of voice he'd used, she stepped away, immediately losing that pinpoint of contact. ”Tell me I've been reading this wrong.”

”You know you haven't,” she sighed wearily, ”but this can't be anything.” Before he could protest, she raised a hand to hold him off. ”Your dad's fully recovered. He's been chomping at the bit to come back to work. The only reason he hasn't is because he doesn't want to take any of the credit for what you've accomplished this year.”

”What we've accomplished,” Oliver corrected sharply. ”You know every major project was either your brainchild or required the IT department to go live. I would have crashed and burned without you.”

Felicity made a dismissive sound of agreement, concentrating on her wringing hands. ”This life isn't what you want, Oliver. At least, not right now, and maybe not ever. What's going to happen once you step down and go back to your life before? I know what it's like when someone resents you for tying them down, and I know what it's like when they decide to leave anyway. When the time comes, I'd rather we part at least as friends.”

Having finished her speech, she looked up to gauge his reaction and was shocked to find Oliver looking almost angry, certainly the most frustrated she'd ever seen him, including during their frantic fight to defeat a hostile takeover by Stellmoor International. Tellingly, his fingers were in constant motion against his thumb. She waited for his response, random fingers and toes involuntarily twitching with nervousness as she bit down on the apologetic babble threatening to bubble out.

Finally, he raised his head, any anger having been replaced by sheer determination. "You think I could ever resent you?" In one step, he erased the short distance she'd placed between them. His hands came up to firmly frame her face, and his mouth slanted over hers. Before she could finish processing the sudden development of soft lips and hot breath and glorious tongue, Oliver lifted her onto the railing, immediately stepping into her and locking her legs around his waist.

"What the--? _Holy shit_ ," Felicity managed to pant out when they separated after not nearly enough kisses for her liking.

"You think I ever want to leave you?" Oliver whispered, his lips still brushing against hers, setting off shivers for both of them. She pushed back slightly, assessing him with heated eyes. He easily cleared his expression of everything but his devotion and let her look her fill.

Suddenly, Felicity grabbed the suspenders under his jacket and yanked him back in.

* * *

Diggle peered through the gap in the drapes, grinning when Oliver finally sprang into action. For too long, he had watched his employer-turned-friend moon over his coworker-turned-friend to no end. Felicity's reservations were logical and understandable, but Oliver had worked out good, solid answers to those reservations, just had very little backbone to actually tell her. He seemed to have finally found his spine.

"Oh!" he quietly blurted out, an eyebrow raising as the situation escalated quickly. Dig spun on his heel, letting the drapes fall closed behind him, before crossing his arms over his chest. He tried his damnedest to look both like an immovable object and as if he was nonchalantly positioned, certainly not guarding an illicit rendevous.

* * *

Moira indulgently allowed her youngest to kvetch--the preferred terminology of one Felicity Smoak--about never gaining a sister and never becoming an aunt because of her dimwitted and useless lug of a brother. She was mildly surprised that Thea even harbored such desires, having been a rather spoiled child with little tolerance for lack of attention. Then again, Moira supposed it meant more people to love her--and for Thea to love.

"Thea!"

The young woman flopped onto a chaise lounge with the casual elegance that had been instilled in her since childhood and ignored the sharp call of her name. "Woe is me," she dramatically intoned, now more to exasperate her mother than out of actual histrionics.

"No, Thea, look!"

Her head snapped around to follow where Moira was pointing, her arm outstretched and seemingly frozen in mid-air. Thea's eyebrows shot into her hairline as she took in the scene outside the window, now featuring Felicity perched on the railing and intimately wrapped around Oliver, not a speck of space between the two.

"Success!" She shared a victorious smile with her quietly pleased mother before turning back to the window. "Oh God! My eyes!"


End file.
